What He Remembers
by Goddess of Lies
Summary: Fenris tells no one of his past. For good reason.    One-shots of Fenris's life as a slave. May progress into story of his escape. Implied f!Hawke/Fenris throughout. Rated M, just in case.
1. Branded

_Hey, guys!_

_Robin here. Before I say anything else;_

_THIS IS A REUPLOADED STORY. I PREVIOUSLY UPLOADED IT ONTO MY OLD ACCOUNT, ZUKO OF THE WATER TRIBE, BUT HAVE CHANGED ACCOUNTS. PLEASE NO REPORTING ME. ;3 THANK YOU._

_Okay, now that THAT'S outta the way._

_This is how I imagine the lyrium branding went. Honestly, I wish I could write what I pictured in my head a little better, but this will have to do. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it!_

_WARNING ; The following one-shot contains a _lot_ of blood. It also contains eye-rape, Fenris being tortured and screaming, and creepy old Danarius. Reader discretion is advised._

* * *

><p><em>Fenris sat down in front of<em> the fire, his hands coming up under his chin and his elbows resting on his knees. He was still dressed in his armor, as always. He had taken off his gauntlets, however, and the markings that marred his hands glowed faintly silver in the flame's light. He rubbed one of his knuckles and sighed, watching the fire dance around and trying desperately not to remember the agony burning had brought him over 6 years ago.

He supposed gazing at fire wasn't helping, but there was nothing else to look at.

It came to him as easily as breathing, and he wished there were other things to remember.

"_Move it, slave. Danarius is waiting."_

_He was walking down the halls of Danarius's mansion, though it was a place he'd never been permitted before. He was a young teenager, but couldn't remember his exact age. The stone was cold under his bare feet. He watched his feet moving, not daring to look up at the guards._

_He was very scared._

_He did not remember much of the walk._

_Now he was lying on a table. Black hair fell into his eyes, long and ragged. He felt some of it splaying onto his shoulder – Danarius liked it when his hair was long and so had not permitted him to cut it for some time. The table was cold. _

_Two guards stood on either side of him. One was a female, with red hair. Her eyes were a very bright blue. She was young. He could not remember if she was an elf or a human, but she was staring at him with sadness in her eyes, and pity, and tears. The other was a male with a scraggly brown beard and seemed to be stubbornly not looking at him, but ahead, at the door. Both wore robes of black._

_He was bound. His wrists were pinned to the table with chains, as were his feet. Chains, ice cold, also wrapped across his thighs, his chest, and even around his neck. He was naked, and the room was chilled enough to make him shiver in his binds._

_He wondered when Danarius would get there, and what exactly was going to happen to him._

_He lay there for a long time. His breath was smoke._

_Now Danarius entered, though it was apparent Fenris had been lying on the table exposed for a very long time._

_He was carrying a knife and his staff. Behind him were two other mages, clad in white. One carried a bowl. The other carried an odd-looking weapon he couldn't recognize. He didn't remember their faces._

_Danarius inspected Fenris with a careful eye. Fenris felt exposed, and shame poured through him. He watched his master grazing him with his eyes, and knew suddenly that, whatever was after this, it would be agony._

"_Little wolf. How are you? I hope you weren't waiting too long." Danarius ran his fingers lightly across Fenris's chest and the slave shivered, closing his eyes in horror. He didn't answer his master._

"_A quiet one?" Danarius grabbed Fenris's chin and jerked his face up until he opened his eyes. His master's blue gaze was cold, but he smiled and brushed his thumb over the elf's lips. "For now," he said, and even as cold as he was, Fenris felt an entirely new kind of chill take him._

_The mage moved back and gestured to the two mages following him. "Today, little wolf, your life changes. Today, you become beautiful."_

_Now he was screaming. The black-robed mages on either side of him were holding him down by his chest as he writhed in agony. One of the mages that had entered with Danarius was down by his feet, carving into him with his knife. Fenris felt bits of his flesh being pulled from him, and occasionally the mage's weapon would jar a bone, sending a cry of anguish from the elf._

_The pain took him._

_Now he was still screaming, but the mage was at his chest, carving still, along lines that had been drawn on his body. Danarius was above his head, stroking his face, though the feeling barely registered against the agony the mage was creating._

_Fenris's throat was raw, but still he cried. Blood was all over his body, slick and drying on him. The second mage approached with the bowl, near his feet. Fenris, through his haze, saw something glinting silver in the bowl, and then it was being poured into the open wounds in his feet and winding up his legs._

_Fenris wailed anew as the mage quickly began sealing the silver liquid into his body. He felt as if there was a metal rod implanted into his leg, and it was on fire._

"_Shh," whispered Danarius, "there is more coming, and if you cannot handle this, I fear you will not survive. You are far too pretty to waste." His master trailed his fingers up the elf's neck and across his ear, and now he was screaming not only with agony but with rage and horror. He desperately wanted to speak, but there was only agony, and there was nothing to say._

_There was only crying._

"_Little wolf," murmured Danarius, sounding amused, "the little wolf howls."_

_Now he was filled with the silver liquid, covered in intricate markings and dots and swirls. Blood filled his mouth and spilled over his hands. His chin and neck ached and burned. He suspected only magic kept him alive._

_The red-haired girl from earlier was crying openly and staring at him in horror. His vision was blurring in and out, but Danarius was always there, stroking him, murmuring._

_His master looked up. "We need to get his back."_

_Fenris could only moan at the thought of movement, and of being cut into even more. They had already gotten the back of his legs, his backside, his shoulders, and the back of his neck, simply by unchaining him and lifting the body part they'd been working on. He had been in too much agony to resist, only wailing and moaning and weakly trying to fight. One of the mages had even laughed when he'd tried punching it in the stomach._

_Danarius looked down and stared into Fenris's eyes. "Then again, if we cut him anymore, I am not certain he will live. Another time, then, little wolf." He brushed his hand across Fenris's cheek._

_Fenris could not even feel it anymore. Everything on him ached – and it really was everything. Yes, he'd been cut into even on his most personal of areas. That had hurt the worst, though he suspected it was more than just the blade; it was also the shame and the horror, the feeling of being so violated. He had been taught by his mother that he was to never allow anyone to touch him or love him below unless he was truly in love with them. Now he felt filthy, and, deeper than that, that he would never be able to love someone now that he had been so horridly destroyed. And that, perhaps, no one would ever truly love him in the first place._

_Especially not as he was now._

_Danarius moved back to admire the handiwork. Fenris felt his throat working and felt weak and powerless. He knew he was doing this for someone, and it brought him strength, but now he could not remember who they were._

"_Now," said his master, "there is only the spell-work, and… his memory."_

_Fenris stiffened, growing motionless; the only sound a short puff of breath to clear the blood draining down his throat. Danarius saw him still, and looked down at his slave again. "Yes, little Fenris. I'm afraid that soon, you will remember very little."_

_The elf lowered his head back against the table, his breath growing shorter. He wanted desperately to curse and scream at Danarius, to tell him to go to Hell, if it existed, which, if Fenris was here, experiencing this, than it certainly must be._

_But then he was stunned at his own anger and, when he spoke, it came as a whimper. "Why?"_

_Danarius grabbed him by the chin and squished his cheeks together, only bringing further agony to him. "Because if you remembered before this, what kind of pain would that bring, knowing you'll never have it back?"_

_Fenris felt stabbed in the heart, and wrenched his face from Danarius's grip, looking to the side and fighting tears. Danarius did not react, only waved his hand as if swatting a fly and tugged on Fenris's neck chain. The elf gagged slightly, but kept his mouth shut, making only a small sound of distaste as blood dribbled from the corner of his lips._

_Now he was against the wall, chained once again, but only by his wrists. He was not able to stand, so hung there, his head falling against his chest as he attempted to breathe normally. He stared up at the five mages with his serpentine green eyes, black hair sticking to him. Sweat ran down through the blood, making little streams on his body, crossing over the metal imbedded in his skin. Fenris had finally realized it was lyrium by the way the mages look hungrily at him. It buzzed within him and felt implanted._

_Danarius looked at him with as much hunger as the others, but his eyes had more than hunger for the lyrium, and Fenris again felt dirty, standing here naked in front of a man who owned him and was clearly going to try to make use of it. Fenris vowed to never let him._

_There were worse things than death._

_Finally Danarius stopped letting his eyes graze the elf and raised his staff. "Now, we'll set the lyrium."_

_Fenris panted, his heart picking up, fear taking him. Danarius was not known for his merciful behavior towards his slaves, especially elves. The other mages stepped forward next to the magister. Fenris met eyes with the red-headed girl. She stared back at him mournfully, her blue eyes irredeemably sad. Fenris stared deadly back at her, his hair in his eyes, and her lower lip began trembling._

Do not pity me_, he thought angrily, _I do not want it. _She seemed to hear his thoughts, and her eyes dropped to the floor, though her very posture suggested she did not want to be there._

_Fenris's eyes flashed back to Danarius as he began to move his staff around in smooth, intricate motions. The other mages followed suit, even the girl, though she did so more sloppily. Fenris's instincts kicked in, and he began to move, getting onto his feet and straining against the chains, though he knew it was useless. He would go down, but he would go down standing and facing his enemy like a man._

_Danarius let out no sound whatsoever, but suddenly, Fenris was on fire. It seemed the flames were invisible, but his entire body was ablaze, his skin, his blood, his hair, his eyes. Writhing and crying out, he fell off his feet again, hanging by his wrists and spasming, his screams echoing off the sides of the walls and returning to attack his overly sensitive ears. His eyes remained open, and his vision blurred and then unblurred, becoming stronger. He could see every wrinkle on Danarius's old face. He could see the tears wriggling in the girl's eyes. He could see his black hair transforming before his eyes, bleaching with the agony and shock his body was absorbing. Almost as if his hair was turning inside out, dying, petrifying like the trees and turning to stone. Fenris pulled against his chains as his blood blazed and roared through him, his vision going red for a moment. The lyrium in him sang, but the song was a screeching harpy, rocking and shaking through his skull and his spine and killing him. His brain pumped in his head, his heart crashing and palpitating against his chest. Every organ in his body cried out, and he threw back his head in agony, moaning a deep, animal roar._

_It was this moment that Fenris remembered every detail of._

_Danarius watched him with eyes dead to his wailing, and kept his staff dancing._

_He did not know how long he hung there, shaking and throwing himself against the wall, trying to end it, trying desperately to end his life, for death was indeed the better option. Never had he experienced such awareness and pain._

_His hearing suddenly and drastically improved, along with his sense of touch. His body wracked even more violently now that he could feel the lyrium burning into his body. Now he could hear each of them breathing, each of their heartbeats. Could hear their fingers sliding on the staves, could hear his sweat hitting the ground in loud plops, could hear his screams amplified a hundred times._

_It never ended._

_Now he was falling to the ground, shaking and twitching._

_Now Danarius was casting one last spell._

_Now he was being carried down a hallway made of stone._

_Now he was looking up at the face of the red-haired girl, who was crying as she washed him._

_Now he had a small vision-dream of two statues, two men holding their heads and curled against opposing walls, and a figure standing in between them, holding out its hand, its eyes kind, with others behind it; an elf with markings on her face, a man with troubled brown eyes and a staff, a dwarf with a crossbow._

_Now he was waking up, focusing his eyes._

_There was Danarius, his eyes not the kind ones he wanted back. His master held his face and blinked at him._

"_Little wolf," he whispered, "you are alive. What do you remember?"_

_And then, at that, now there was nothing._

_Only the agony, the blood, and the man who had caused it standing above him, the only reason he was alive._

"_Nothing, master," he whispered, and his voice had become rough and deep, "nothing at all."_

Fenris pulled away from his memories, clenching his fists against his chin. The feeling of long hair against his back was gone – it only touched his neck now, brushed his ears. The agony was gone, his blood pumping normally. His head fell into his hands, and he sighed, digging his fingers into his hair.

"Fenris?"

He jerked his face up, tensing.

But it was only Hawke, blue eyes kind and looking at him with concern. She watched him from the other chair that faced the fire, her black hair falling messily around her face.

Fenris felt an odd emotion in him now – affection. The only person who'd ever summoned the feeling from him now sat there, looking like she wanted to take his hand but knowing him too well to try.

He did not try to force a smile onto his face, because she would know. Instead, he fell back into his chair and sighed, casting his eyes back to the fire. "Just thinking, Hawke. Thinking about the past, or what I know of it."

The worried look only intensified, and he knew he had not tricked her in the least. She leaned forward, towards him, and he looked back at her, the affection intensifying within him.

"How about some wine?" she said, very slowly, and he smiled, gazing at her.

He reached forward and gently touched her cheek. It was strange, knowing now that touching did not have to be painful, but there could indeed be nothing better. Hawke relaxed again his hand, and he realized this was the first time he'd touched her without his gauntlets on. His lyrium markings glowed faintly on his knuckles, not with pain, but with a small happiness.

"That sounds brilliant," he said quietly, and stood, letting his hand slip up from her cheek to her hair. "I think I might need the Aggregio tonight."

She looked up at him softly, and smiled, and Fenris knew that she would make him forget his past.

At least for a little while, he would be okay.

* * *

><p><em>Ah, so, how'd you like it? Reviews would be loved! I want to know how to improve upon my writing, so don't hold back! Unless you're just gonna be a jerk.<em>

_Yes, there is more coming, though I can't say things will get better for Fenny until much later. What do you want to read about next? Hadriana or more Danarius? Lemme know! _

_Until then, ciao!_


	2. Lust and Defiance

**Oookay, guys! Sorry for the late update! School, ya know, blech.**

**Anyway! Just so you know, all of these little stories take place during different times of Fenris's slavery. One may be a week before he escaped, the next the day after the ritual. I'll try to give you the approximate year, but as we don't know how long Fenris remained in slavery, it's kind of a wild guess. In my mind, Leto became Fenris at around age 18, and remained Danarius's slave until somewhere around his 24****th**** birthday. That'd be about 6 years Fenris was enslaved, including his time with the Fog Warriors, and putting Fenris at age 27 at the beginning of the game, and 37 endgame. Ten years, sheesh.**

**This bit takes place at year 3 in Kirkwall and the memory near the end of Fenris's enslavement; I think that Fenris, despite him saying that slaves are mindless, began to see what was becoming of him near the end. That's why he stayed with the Fog Warriors rather than immediately catching the next boat after Danarius.**

**There's also some Hadriana in this one. She's all about our dear little Fenris, and her attentions are far from wanted….**

Fenris lay in his bed, rubbing his knuckles. The skin was soft, supple, only becoming rough where the lyrium glided over it. The fireplace burned in the corner of the room, warming over him and reflecting golden in his eyes and across his blanket.

Gold. The elf turned over, the sheets slipping over him as easily as silk, to watch the fire dance. A hand came up to rest under his cheek, and he could almost feel the throbbing there. Memories took him, as they usually did when he was alone, at night. He longed for Hawke to walk into the room, to distract him before the thoughts came, but it was too late for her to come wandering unless there was a major emergency.

And so into his thoughts he fell.

"_Fenris!"_

_Starting, the elf tumbled into the room, eyes on the ground. "Yes, master?" he murmured, the cold stone of the mansion's floor scraping against his feet. Everything about the world seemed oddly cold now – there was no warmth, nothing compared to the fire he had felt. The lyrium felt like a constant chill, like metal in a cold winter's day that had been implanted into him._

_He longed to feel the warmth of a hug again, but he could not remember anyone who'd ever hugged him before. It was strange, knowing how something felt and yet not remembering the experience._

_Fenris bent onto his knee and kept his eyes on the ground, waiting for his master to speak._

_Danarius rose, arrogance coming from him in waves, and approached the slave. Fenris scowled at the ground, not anticipating the caress his owner swept over his ear as he swept about in a circle. He fought down a shudder and kept his face averted._

"_My friends need some wine. Get the Aggregio and bring it to us immediately. You will serve us."_

_Not so bad. Fenris repeated himself, "Yes, master." He was rising when Danarius pressed a hand down onto his back, forcing him back down. Then the old man's lips brushed by his ear. Fenris fought from flinching away. He would never be comfortable with the forced intimacy._

"_I want you to return in nothing but your small clothes. My friends wish to see your markings."_

_Bad. Shamefully, he again said nothing but "Yes, master" and rose when Danarius released him. Fenris briefly lifted his head to glare at the group of mages circling Danarius's dinner table. They were all female. Typical. Each pair of batting eyes was on him, scorching over the ridiculous outfit he wore._

_He was clad in red silk. It was kimono-like, wrapping around him much like a dress, and stopping at his knees. There were no sleeves. A black belt pinched at his waist. Fenris was both displeased at having to be exposed in front of the women and glad to be rid of the garment._

_He swept from the room. Danarius did not mind much when he stomped from a place, because Fenris _was_ a bodyguard and was meant to intimidate – even though his master used him for more than just protection. In fact, Fenris was actually encouraged to be scary towards house guests. It was a matter of balance, of being both intimidating and at the same time not insulting. Danarius punished him when he insulted anyone._

_His cheek throbbed as he pulled the Aggregio from its place in the cellar. He set the bottle down and sighed before grabbing another. Danarius would want to get the ladies upstairs drunk. At least it wasn't him his master was trying to bed tonight._

_He was untying his belt slowly, trying to linger away from his master as long as possible, when a voice he'd grown to hate called from the corner._

"_Fenny. Are you stripping?"_

_Immediately a scowl passed over his features, and he fought to pull it off as he continued undressing. "Yes," he said, putting as much malice in his voice as he could get away with._

_Hadriana giggled, skipping up from behind one of the cabinets of wine and inspecting him. Fenris deliberately slowed, hoping she'd lose interest if he took too long._

_No such luck._

"_What does he have you wearing?" She tugged at one of the shoulders of the garment, causing it to slip from his body and fall halfway down his arm. He shot her a scowl and didn't answer as she giggled once more._

_Hadriana's fascination with him had never been charming. It was altogether irritating, her constant teasing and flirting, and then horrible want for revenge when he turned her down. Fenris felt as if he were trapped between Danarius and Hadriana, both of them wanting him in bed just to toy with him and use him, neither of them letting up. Privately, he sometimes wondered if they had a bet going on to see who could be the first to force him into giving up his body. Fenris was utterly disgusted by it, still holding strong to the fact he was to sleep only with someone he loved, even if it meant never sleeping with anyone at all. He could not remember who had told him that, but he knew it was important, somehow. That particular sentiment seemed not to matter to both the magister and his apprentice._

_Now Hadriana was playing, tugging at his clothes. "I can help," she said, her hands baby-soft from lack of work, trailing down his spine. She flashed him a teasing look. He moved around and away from her, trying to make way up the stairs, swooping down to snatch the wine bottles on his way out._

_But she wasn't finished with him. "You're not undressed, Fenny!" She grabbed at his shoulders, tugging him from one of the stairs and causing him to stumble back into her. She giggled in delight._

"_I don't need your help, Mistress Hadriana," he snapped, yanking away from her and hating how he had still, instinctively, let 'mistress' slip from his tongue. His markings pulsed on him, glowing faintly white, and he fought for control. Quickly he proceeded up the stairs._

_He felt her eyes on him as he retreated, the want for vengeance already coming from her in waves. "I'm sure I'll have another chance to undress you, slave," she snarled at his back, though amazingly still seeming to try to seduce him back to her. He turned to shoot her a look of distaste and escaped._

_Pushing the matter to the back of his mind, he rose to the hallway and stripped quickly. Danarius was surely going to punish him later for his inefficiency, and Fenris would not argue, because slaves did not argue, and his master would not believe him anyway._

_Hurrying down the hall with a scowl, he quickly pushed against the doorframe and showed himself to Danarius, a wine bottle in each hand. Danarius's eyes lit up in satisfaction and he watched the slave enter the room with a prideful greediness on his face. Fenris met his eyes deadly, and approached the table with the quiet anger he could not show. He dropped the wine on the table ungracefully, and for a moment his master's eyes flashed in fierce rage._

_Fenris quickly righted the bottles and inwardly cringed, not looking at his master until he felt the rage leave the man. His lyrium had given him a good reading into people's emotions – he knew when he'd overstepped a line. He just had, and could sense the warning – he'd either make up for it now or later._

_The elf decided now was the better option._

_With as much dignity as he could manage, he poured the wine into the set glasses and met eyes with each woman as he did so. They each scorched him with their gazes, and he could feel the appreciation coming from them._

_What he could feel even more strongly was their fear._

_Even in his smallclothes, his appearance frightened._

_He scowled, and Danarius took the glass from the table. "I've imbued him with lyrium," he told the girls, whom all turned wide eyes to look at the magister. Fenris backed up, knowing that he was supposed to put on a show, but instead merely standing up a bit taller. He would pay for it later, but dammit, the part that clung to something strange within him… didn't want to. He did not know what this was, inside him, telling him to defy, but it was small. It was weak, but stubborn, and Fenris felt the urge to nurture it, because whenever the emotion rose in him, he felt as if he would perhaps leave this place someday. An absurd notion – Danarius had gone to much too much trouble to sell him or release him – but that part in his soul told him to never stop hoping._

_Fenris quickly quashed the feeling as his master stared at him darkly. He was a slave. An elf. Marked beyond anything anyone else had. He would never be able to blend in anywhere. What hope did he have?_

_Though his body told him to spin and show the markings to the fullest, the thing pounding in his chest ached at the thought. Fenris fought within himself, before his heart won out, and the elf stiffened, staring his master in the eyes._

_He would pay, he knew._

_The women still stared in fear and in awe at him. He let his stance turn menacing as he turned to them, letting the inner hatred release from him for a moment. He saw them each shrink back, sensing it, seeing it in his eyes, no doubt. They knew how much he hated his life._

_Then, one of the women spoke, her voice a suggestive purr. "Is he marked _everywhere_?" All three of the women tittered girlishly, pushing against the speaker and casting lustful eyes over at the elf._

_Fenris let the hatred pour from him now, the dam to his feelings beginning to shift as the torrent of rage pounded at the walls behind his eyes. The woman silenced, her lips thinning and face paling._

_Danarius swayed in his chair and shot Fenris a cocky smile. "Would you like to show them, little wolf?"_

_It was not a question. His heart thudded and the elf spat out something he was not expecting. "Not particularly."_

_Danarius rose from his chair in an instant and Fenris realized what he'd said. His master swept across the room to him, and then Fenris was on the ground, his cheek throbbing and head swimming from colliding with the ground. His master stood over him, rage pouring from his blue eyes, and Fenris shrank away from him, pressing against the opposing wall._

"_I'm sorry, master," he sputtered, and the small piece of his heart roared in outrage at his submissiveness. He silenced it as Danarius loomed, fists crackling with magic._

"_Get out," Danarius growled._

_Oddly both thankful and terrified, Fenris fled. He ran through the mansion, slipping past magisters related to his master and other slaves, before tumbling into the slaves' quarters and ripping open his chest of clothes._

_The only respectable items were his armor pieces. He scowled, pushing past them to a simple black tunic and sage green leggings. Both were colored with intricate gold markings and Danarius's initials, but at least they weren't the red dress he'd been forced to wear before. He tugged them on, shuddering and trying not to whimper. His cheek blazed; magic, of course. Danarius must have cast a spell on his hand to make the slap ache afterwards. Fenris remained silent, though he wanted to release the pain with a cry, and he crawled over to the corner of the room. None of the other slaves were in the quarters – all busy making Danarius's food or clothes or tending to his horses or some other nonsense. Fenris eyed the fireplace in the room, watching the flames dance._

_His heart beat calmly within him. Though his body was in pain, his insides were content. Something told him he had done something right today, had stood up for himself._

Yes,_ he thought dryly,_ because that worked out so well. No telling what more punishment I will get once the women leave.

_Still, he felt a small sense of pride in him. His brain told him this was dangerous and stupid, and he'd better never do that again, or Danarius might get those extra markings after all. Fenris shuddered at the thought._

_But his heart, and perhaps something deeper, something he could not recall the name of but seemed to truly be the essence of a person… soul. His soul. His heart, his soul… they told him that there would be pain for this, but that if he were truly a man, he would take it. _It is better to endure pain as a man than to cower in the shadows like a rat only to avoid hurt_, they told him quietly. Fenris frowned, burying his face in his hands._

No,_ he thought quietly, fighting back, _there is nothing for me. It is foolish to take pain when you do not have to.

Is it?_ whispered the voice, _Are you such a man that you would allow yourself to be treated like dirt? That you would be kicked like a dog and then return for more?

_Fenris sighed, pushing the thoughts away and only looking down at his hands, at the lyrium burned into them. They pulsed gently._

I am dirt, _he thought angrily, _I am a slave, not to mention a deformed one that is seeming to lose his very ability to obey. No one and nothing will change that. Certainly not fighting back.

_His heart seemed to sigh, and quieted. Fenris was exasperated with himself. Here he was, arguing with himself about something that was a distant dream, a star, a million miles away and untouchable. Maybe it was not just his ability to obey he was losing._

_With a sigh, Fenris fell back onto the hay Danarius had provided for a bed._

_And still, as his cheek throbbed and head pounded with pain, he did not realize the change that had slowly begun to slip over him._

_This was the first time he had ever defied his master._

_It would not be the last._

Fenris sighed, blinking away from his thoughts. _I was such a fool,_ he thought darkly, _so blind._ He rolled over in his bed, and imagined he could smell Danarius on the pillowcase. With a scowl, he chucked the pillow from the bed. It flew directly onto the table and knocked over a bottle of wine.

He liked the sound of it shattering.

_I am not sleeping tonight anyway,_ he thought, rising from his bed. He eyed the pillow with a small, dark smile passing over his face.

When Hawke came over the next morning, she was greeted with a sleeping elf wrapped in a blanket on the floor, a small smirk on his face, surrounded by shreds of fabric and feathers, paintings knocked from the walls, clothes strewn about and torn, and broken glass.

Fenris roused when she walked in, but didn't leave the blanket – he'd expected her arrival the previous night and had covered up – he was scantily clad {ripping the clothes off his own body had been strangely satisfying, like tearing away chains} and didn't want her to see him nearly naked.

Hawke gave him a confused look, one eyebrow in her hairline.

He only smiled back. "Good morning, Hawke," he said sleepily.

She stayed poised for only a moment more before realizing he was not going to tell her what had happened. With that, she turned away from him and strutted towards the door. "_Was_ gonna ask you to come with me to the Deep Roads, but if this is how you wake up every morning, I think I'll take Anders instead."

He caught the teasing tone, but still replied seriously, "You are taking me. That mage couldn't win a fight against an army of pacifist Chantry sisters."

She cast him a short smirk over her shoulder before leaving with only a short, "Get dressed. We're going to meet Bartrand. I swear, though, if I wake up and my tent is destroyed, you'll be the one I blame."

Fenris could only chuckle. "I'll try my best to keep my nightmares contained."

She shot him a concerned look, but he waved her off.

_At least during this trip, there will be plenty of distractions. And hopefully no fireplaces._ He shot his own a dark look before rising and getting dressed.


End file.
